My tits hurt today, they got a workout last night. My friend played with them, twisted and pinched them, and used clothespins as well. When the clothespins didn't hurt anymore, he took them off and used his fingers again. The pain was delightful.

Somehow he knew I wanted him to do that. When I woke up this morning, they didn't even hurt. Sometimes they hurt for days after. I guess he wasn't as intense as usual.

But after breakfast we started in again. He went for my tits. There weren't any clothespins this time, just fingers and fingernails. He knows how to push the right buttons. Those two dark nipples are instant switches to turn me on.

It wasn't always that way...

Common wisdom -- generally unspoken -- is that sex comes naturally and what you have and how you use it is what you're stuck with. There's no thought that sex can be taught or learned.

Face it. We build our muscles and develop our minds. There are schools for dance, music, and architecture. There are gymnasiums and football camps, coaches, instructors, and teachers of all sorts. But we leave sex to be learned on the fly, (so to speak), without any expert supervision, and the job is seldom done well.

Other cultures teach sex in various ways but we shy away from it. Sad to say, the majority of us learn it poorly, struggle with it often, and long for a better way.

I've always thought that my tits were just my tits, useless since I am a male. I had no idea what they were for and didn't think they would ever amount to much.

I was wrong.

The nipples on a man's chest can be the source of an immense amount of pleasure. That much I've learned.
A night in a bar where men expose their chests demonstrates that tits come in all shapes and sizes. What you don't see is that the variations can be developed. With playful attention, my own tits have grown in size and as they've done so, they become a greater source of pleasure.

Leather folk call it TT -- tit torture -- a very deceptive title.

I remember my fist forays into tit work. Barely out in the leather scene, I'd put a clothespin on each nipple just to see what would happen. Invariably, I'd soon take them off. It was all pain. Well, almost all pain; hidden in the torture was a heightened sense of arousal and a bit of pleasure.

With practice I could take the clothespins, and then tit clamps, for longer periods of time. And with practice the pain diminished and the pleasure increased. The idea that an aspect of sexuality can be developed, actually learned, is important. It points us to a way of being, a way of looking at things, that affords us greater possibilities.
Yes, we may think that we lack sensitivity in our chest. Yes, we may shun partners who squeeze our nipples, but the truth is that many of us can learn not just to tolerate such activity, but actually to enjoy it.

As I drove home from my friend's house, I could feel my tits rubbing against my shirt. I ached with a warm glow, both of pleasure and pain.

Playing with someone else's tits is another sensation. The pleasure is in the control and in the giving of pleasure.
I see my partner squirm, writhe, as I use his nipples to dominate him. With his two points of flesh between my fingers, I take control. He doesn't stop me. He has already submitted himself to my "handiwork". He knows that my fingers will bring him to his knees, bring him to surrender.

I roll his tits between my fingers, feeling, pressing their flesh. I delight in the pain and pleasure on his face, his gentle, and not so gentle, moans. He will do anything to convince me to stop but hopes that I won't. I have him; he is mine.

Greg, an experienced bottom said, "They just don't understand what we gain when we submit to their domination."
There is more than control.

Bottoms have submitted, have hoped I'd pinch their tits for a reason. They want the pleasure. I can give them.
The paradox is that we "sadists" enjoy inflicting pleasure. We give our submissives what they want: pain, confinement, humiliation, or domination. We make their nipples ache so that they feel good.

That "gift" is a significant joy, a real turn on, to a top. We do what we do for the pleasure we inflict. We enjoy, vicariously, the pleasure that our bottoms' tits are producing. We can only sense what's going on. But our senses tells us they're having one hell of a good time. We can tell by the glow on their faces, the sighs in the their voices that they are having fun.

I don't know what makes it a turn on for me. I only know that a major reward to being a top is the knowledge that one's bottom is satisfied.

I could continue with ideas about sadism, or stories about tops who like to have their own tits played with. But let me leave that for other weeks.

Thanks for reading. I hope your tits feel as good as mine. Copyright 2000 by Jack Rinella. This material may not be copied in any manner. For permission to reproduce this essay, contact mrjackr@leathermail.com

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